


The Enigma of Time

by TheWinglessAuthor



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anxiety, Canon LGBTQ Character, Depression, Gen, Gender, Graphic Description, Hallucinations, Intrusive Thoughts, LGBT, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Mental Illness, Multi, PTSD, military torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9976796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWinglessAuthor/pseuds/TheWinglessAuthor
Summary: Life was idyllic for Gurley at first, until a combination of events turned her life into one of regret and sorrow.Her father died of lung cancer, cigarettes being one of his only vices.She discovered her bisexuality, which would shun her from life opportunities and her community.Her mother couldn’t cope with her husband’s death or the debt that followed, taking her frustration and grief out on her daughter.Isolated from both her remaining family and the small southern town she called home, Gurley took comfort in what she could until she could one day leave– art, the remnants of her Girl Scout troop, and Team Fortress 2.Once she graduated from high school, she left home and joined the United States Air Force in hopes of redeeming herself. After seven years of service, she was honorably discharged and returned a changed woman, renting an apartment on the outskirts of her home town.It was there where, she met the nine mercenaries that helped her through her high school years, waltzing into her life with problems and dangers of their own.





	

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I am terribly sorry about the unexpected hiatus, but I am back!   
> I've decided to go through and rewrite absolutely everything. I wasn't happy with the direction the story was going in, so I went back and revamped the first chapter and will be continuing from here.   
> This chapter is completely new, so if you read the old chapters this will still be new content for you. I'm going to make chapters about 4k-6k words long from now on, so when I update you'll have a lot to read.

_Darkness. Endless silence. She wanted to scream and lash out into the darkness but unseen forces held her in place, trapped by nothingness._

_Suddenly, there was light. Bright and blinding it tore at her eyes. “_

_You're going to talk now, Elliott. Where did Crane deposit the package? Tell. me. the. date.”_

_The voice was booming, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Searing pain flooded her face as tape was ripped from her bleeding lips._

_“_ _Burn in hell you bastard. Crane delivered the package safely. The date can ‘t grant you access anymore.”_

_The silence and the darkness pummeled against her skull again. It drilled into her, poking around inside her memory and thoughts. For what seemed like hours, she sat there, screaming incoherently into the void, trying desperately to fill the never ending space with anything other than silence and nothingness._

_Her brain had to fill the emptiness with something, anything. Images and lights began dancing in and out of sight, slowly taking form._

_A white blob like figure sat in the midnight space, staring, unblinking. It started to whisper in a sandpaper voice. “_

_speak”_

_"crane”_

_“the date, the date, the date, the date”_

_"failure”_

_"wake up"_

 

 

Everything was quiet as Gurley drove. The hum of her VW created an almost serene atmosphere. Trees changing from viridian to amber and crimson went by along with quaint little suburban houses and the odd apartment complex. She went to turn at an intersection, but a mud caked truck flew past, almost t-boning her car in the process.

She slammed her brakes and left a set of skid marks on the already beat up asphalt. Before the truck was out of site, she flipped it the bird as her heart lept in her chest. “Fucking backwoods hick doesn’t know how to drive!”

Shaking herself back to reality, she continued to her destination. The deadly silence slowly creeped back into the interior of her humming vehicle and her mind began to wander into dangerous places, like what to do with her recent paycheck and- whether or not she would even get another one.

 

_I might as well turn into the ditch, it’d be better for everyone_

 

She instinctively switched on the radio, blasting music to drown herself out. It may annoy the neighbors but it didn’t matter as long as she couldn’t hear herself.

 

 

Gurley pulled into a covered parking lot that sat next to a three-story apartment complex. Running a paint stained hand through her hair, she shut off the engine and slammed the door of her four banger as hard as possible after getting out. She grabbed a tackle box from the passenger seat and put some earbuds in before walking towards the apartment with a scowl.

 

_I ’m gonna have a hell of a time getting all this paint off me_

 

After climbing the annoying sets of stairs, she fished her keys out of her pocket and unlocked her front door. She pushed it open and closed with her foot before walking to the kitchen and slamming her tackle box on the table, _“C’est des conneries!”_

Whether it be her own ignorance or the French Pop music blasting in her ears, Gurley failed to notice a group of hardened mercenaries standing in her living room. The kitchen was a straight shot in from the front door, and so long as you didn ’t look to the right you could ignore the living room.

 

The men stood stock still as Gurley hung her keys on the wall in the kitchen and then walked past, dark brown locks billowing behind her as she dashed out of sight down a hallway. They heard the distinct sound of a door opening and slamming shut– and the sound of a shower turning on.

“How did she not see us, or hear us fightin’?” One of them asked, barely above a whisper.

Another of them was knelt over, looking at a strange device that lay on the floor, “No idea there partner, but I think we got bigger problems to deal with. Looks like the teleporter doesn’t have enough charge for another trip- it’ll be about about 20 hours wait after I get it plugged into a power source. So we’re stuck here until then.”

Panic quickly filled the group. The youngest of them started bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously. “Let ’s just make a run for it! Who knows who ‘hat lady is.”

The man kneeling over the so called teleporter stood and clapped the younger man on the shoulder to shake him from his panic. “We should at least have a good look around before we book it- She’ll be in there a while I bet, and it won't do us any good if we don't know where we are.”

The younger man sighed, nodding in agreement.

Spreading out, each Merc searched a different corner of the apartment for clues of their location. The Texan and the soldier opened the drawers to a curio cabinet that sat in living room, rummaging through its mismatched contents. Inside they found a stack of papers. Thumbing through the faded and yellowed pages didn ’t reveal any dates, but one interesting paper detailing the sale of a property had a location printed on it– High Cliff, Arkansas. Under the clutter lay a simple wooden trinket box. Opening it, they revealed a pair of dog tags, inscribed with raised letters.

_Elliott Gurley L._

_459-56-5907 AF_

_A POSITIVE_

_CATHOLIC_

Soldier grinned approvingly before replacing the lid and stuffing the papers back relevantly in the same spot it was beforehand.

The rest of the team didn’t have such luck. They practically turned the kitchen and living area upside down searching for a calendar, planner, diary, or anything that could give them a general day in time. Looking outside the large kitchen and living room windows didn’t give them many clues either. All there was to be see was a row of similar grey apartment buildings and trees.

Frustrated and careful to avoid the bathroom where mystery woman was, the slyest man in the group snuck into the room across the hall. His soft leather shoes made no sound as he tread across the carpet and through the threshold. The floor was solid concrete and covered in splotches of color. Two easels sat in the far left corner and the whole room smelled of turpenoid. The smell was so strong that he felt almost sick to his stomach.

His eyes poured over the paintings on the easels. One was a beautifully done landscape, paint still drying in the afternoon sun, but the other– was a painting of him. Well, not just him, every single one of the mercenaries in fact. It depicted the group playing cards at a shoddy foldout table while they all laughed and drank.

With this discovery, he quickly made his way back to the living room where he found his group looking through a bookcase as a last ditch attempt to orient themselves in time.

He cleared his throat while sliding a cigarette case from his suit pocket, “Gentlemen, I do believe it is time for us to leave– now.”

And as if on cue, the shower shut off with a loud shudder from the pipes.

 

The Spy straightened his posture and his tie. He retrieved a brown and gold cigarillo from his case while silently signaling to his fellow mercenaries to let him do the talking. The others stood behind him apprehensively, fearing the worst from the agitated, French speaking woman.

Out stepped Gurley, hair wrapped upon her head in a green towel. She was now clad in a simple grey tank top and a pair of black sweats covered in orange birds.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw them. But instinct took over and she swiftly adopted a fighting pose, feet shoulder length apart, knees bent slightly, hands balled into tight fists. She watched the masked man raise a curious brow before she spoke in a low growl, “Listen buddy, I'm gonna give y ’all 3 seconds to tell me why the fuck you 're in my apartment before I kick your sorry arses and call the cops.”

“Madame- If you could tell us the date we will ‘appily be on our way. I assure you this was a mistake.”

The French accent threw Gurley off. She hadn’t heard anyone with a voice like that in ages. Gurley took a really good look at the masked man, and the group of staring eyes behind him. Something seemed oddly familiar about them. Then realization struck in full force.

 

_What the hell- there’s no way_

 

Shock passed over her tanned and scared features. She relaxed some but maintained her ingrained straight posture. “Wait, are you guys the Team Fortress? Or just some really convincing cosplayers because holy hell-“

The masked man, or Spy, drew his revolver from his inner suit pocket and spun the barrel to interrupt. “Now I ’m giving you to the count of 3 to explain how you know of us. One.”

“Wait wait wait a damn second- You’re all from, or dressed as I think, as the people from this video game I play called Team Fortress 2. I know I was an ass and all but you all are the ones who just showed up in apartment unannounced. No need to… make a mess.”

“Two.” Spy pulled back the hammer of his revolver. The others drew a myriad of weapons and took aim, ready to protect their identity at any cost.

Gurley sighed, and walked away without a care, into the room to the right of the studio. Surprised, they remained in place until she returned, albeit apprehensively. Gurley now had a hefty pair of glasses on and an opened laptop nestled in the crook of her right arm. “Look I know this is strange, to say the least, but y’all’s resemblance is uncanny.”

She turned the screen towards them so they could see the gameplay clip playing on the brightly lit screen. Staring in curious wonder and confusion, Engineer moved forward to as if to grab the laptop but paused, unsure. Gurley handed it to him willfully and his excitedly took in the new technology.

Gurley put one hand on her hip and looked to Spy. “You’re probably the strangest looking group of burglars I’ve ever seen.”

Medic looked over at her from the computer screen. “ _Was? Nein,_ This iz really us. You said this iz from a… video game?”

 

_Holy shit_

 

“There is no way! You can ’t actually exist. Even if so, what are you all doing here of all places?”

Sniper scratched at the back of his neck thoughtfully. “Mind elaboratin’ on that one Sheila?”

“You are from a work of fiction. RED and BLU don ’t exist, The Administrator doesn't exist, all of you are characters in a story!”

Engineer’s expression lit up considerably. The short Texan laughed and elbowed Spy in the side, “Told you it would work! We don ’t exist in the Administrator's dimension anymore, to hell with what year it is.”

Gurley’s face suddenly flushed deep red with embarrassment, realizing how disheveled and underdressed she was in the presence of other people. ”This is– uh– pretty strange. Look I’ll uh– be back in a sec.” Engineer handed her back the laptop reluctantly and she fled into what the group presumed was her bedroom.

Scout and Pyro looked at each other and shrugged, confused by her reaction. As a sign of good faith, most of the Team elected to lean or set their weapons up against the wall that ran behind the couches. All except Spy and Medic of course, who always kept their trusty blades (or gun) tucked away somewhere close.

Heavy started to chuckle quietly. “See her face? Does not shy at gun but one look from littel Engie and she become red as tomato!”

Sniper sat on the end of the beige leather couch next to Demoman, who was trying desperately to contain his laughter with a swig from his scrumpy bottle. “Yeah Truckie, she’s a shorty like you. The perfect woman!”

Engineer’s eyes rolled under his goggles as he took a seat on the adjacent couch. Demo gave him a questionable look with a waggle of his brow. “Aye! Bet she ’ll know how to handle yer gun, too.”

Engie took off his hard hat before dragging a hand down his tired features in exasperation. He hated it when they picked on him about his height, but the playfully dirty jabs at Gurley annoyed him even further. Pyro, sharing Engineer’s sentiments, then proceeded to smack Demo upside his head with a muffled retort.

 

Gurley returned to the living room, looking more like a human than a tomato. Her still damp hair was now lying across one shoulder. A black hoodie replaced her tank top and some grey skinny jeans replaced her sweatpants. Not deeming it necessary to put her shoes back on, she had put on some grey socks with carrots printed on them instead. She grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and plopped it down across from the full couches.

“Alright, before y ’all explain what’s going on, let me introduce myself. My name’s Gurley, but Lee is fine too.” She sat down and looked to Engineer, “You mentioned something about, dimensions?”

He pulled his goggles up so that they rested atop his bald head. “Firstly, I ’d like to apologize on the behalf of all of us. Isn ’t very gentlemanly to pull a gun on a woman or show up in her home without being invited.”

Gurley stuffed her hands into her hoodie pockets and shrugged. “It ’s all good. No harm done.”

“As for how we got here, it was random chance. After some… unfortunate events… I was able to modify a teleporter to transport us through time and dimensions. But some, uh, calibration errors skewed our destination.”

“That’s incredible! The invention of time travel and the proof of alternate dimensions all at once!” Her eyes beamed with all the possibilities, but then the somberness of his tone caught up with her. “That ‘s horrible that something went wrong, though. I ’m curious, what are y’all going to do now?”

Medic pat Engie on the shoulder before speaking for him. “Ve do not know. Ve didn’t expect to make it this far. Tech like that iz very… experimental.”

Their faces grew more solemn and the silence between Gurley and the Team grew tense. She was unsure how to respond. It hadn’t occurred to her that they could have been, fleeing from something or bad circumstances. Then Soldier, who had been surprisingly quiet thus far, stood rapidly from the couch. “C ’mon men! We are still alive and kicking! Surely this red-blooded American can aid her fellow men in arms?”

He gestured fervently to Gurley while his oversized helmet slid further over his shining eyes.

“Now Solly–“ Engineer began, trying to avoid making things more uncomfortable. Soldier could easily get out of hand.

“No, he has a point. You guys would have a hard time starting over, and I don’t know what y’all went through but you deserve some time having it easy,” Gurley smiled softly at them, “You can stay here if ya want. Anything you all need I’ll get.”

Heavy crossed his burly arms over his chest in suspicion. “Why would you help strangers who threaten you with guns?”

Gurley paused, scratching at the back of her head in thought. The words had flown so suddenly from her mouth that she didn’t grasp what she was saying until after they left her,

“Well, I am quite a big fan of the video game and comics y ’all are in, in this dimension. You’ve helped to distract me from a lot of stuff I’ve been going through. Guess it would be a way of returning the favor? As for the guns, it ’s nothing I’m not used to at this point.”

Heavy nodded in thought, suspicion lessened if only slightly, before smiling brightly. “Never thought I would see day that we become superheros. But do you have room for us?”

Before she replied, Gurley chuckled at the sight of Pyro holding a hand over Scout’s mouth to keep him from bouncing out of his seat and babbling on with questions about the comic. “It might be a tiny bit crowded but I don't think it will be too bad. I have camping cots and a couple blow-up mattresses,” She said, then addressed the group as a whole, “So, are you going to stay?”

Silence fell again for a short moment before Spy stood and held out a hand for her to shake. “I do think we will, _ma amie._ ”

Gurley returned the gesture, hardly believing that the gloved hand in hers was real. “ _C’est mon plaisir._ ”

Scout had wiggled from Pyro’s asbestos filled grasp and bounced over to Gurley. “Yeah yeah yeah, fancy French talking time ’s over. I wanna see this comic that you were talking about! Must be pretty good if ya gonna let us stay here.”

“Sure thing Scout, but I think I should make us some lunch first. It’s already 1:30.” Gurley’s stomach growled to accent her point. “Wha dd ya think about BLTs for lunch?”

Demo stood, slightly leaning on Sniper for support so his knees couldn’t betray him to gravity. “Sounds good lass. Do ye want some help?”

“Please, I haven’t cooked for this many people in ages! And y’all can explore the apartment if you want.” She resisted the urge to add ‘if you haven’t already’.

 

_How long have they even been here anyway? … were they already here when I got home? And Soldier said ‘fellow men in arms’ like he– oh god_

 

Gurley briskly made her way into the kitchen, trying to ignore her internal dialogue. Her sock covered feet slid on the cheap linoleum and she glided over to the cabinet that sat in the back of the kitchen. Demo, Sniper, Scout, weren’t too far behind, Demo still leaning on his lanky friend for support. Gurley pulled a stack of ceramic plates out and set them on the counter gingerly. Scout opened the fridge at the other end of the galley style kitchen, not taking but a minute to find the lettuce, mayo, tomatoes, and a package of maple smoked bacon. Demo retrieved the loaf of whole wheat from the bread basket that sat next to the fridge.

Like a well oiled machine, they toasted bread, fried bacon, and washed and chopped the head of lettuce and the tomatoes. Somewhere along the way, Demo has found Gurley’s ‘well hidden’ bottle of Pinot Noir, joking that if it went missing not to blame him. Instead of wine, Gurley saw fit to break out a 12-pack of Miller 64 for those who wanted it. She knew how stressful days made one want to drink, no matter the quality of the booze itself. She also made a pitcher of sweet tea for those who didn’t want to drink alcohol or water.

With lunch prepared, it was time to set the table.

“Is there even enough room for us to sit? Table looks awful small.” Scout remarked as he poured himself a glass of sweet tea. He took a sip and surprised himself with how sweet it really was, before he recalled how sweet southerners really did make their stuff.

Gurley thought for a moment before remembering that the table could indeed fit 10 people. She looked under the middle of the table and unlatched a board attached below it. With a simple push and relatch, the table extended long enough to fit everyone, even if it did go into the living room a bit on one end.

She grabbed her tackle box and left them to set the table while she went to a storage closet in the hallway to get more chairs. Even from outside the door to her studio, she could smell the distinct scent of turpenoid. Gurley pushed open the door to reveal the shattered mess of a glass turpenoid container, jagged pieces lying behind her easels. “Biscuit! You ’re in big trouble mister!” She called into the rest of the apartment.

A big fluffy black and white tom cat padded into the room at the mention of his name, his fur still ruffled from sleep. He stretched and yawned lazily.

Gurley knelt down and scratched him under his chin. “Awe you're too cute to be mad at.”

Heavy had heard Gurley from the living room and stood in the doorway. “Everything okay?”

Gurley smiled and picked Biscuit up. “Yep. Biscuit here just knocked over some stuff is all.” The furry rascal bit down on her hoodie sleeve, clearly not wanting to be held.

Heavy laughed, “Such a tiny beast! Must tell doktor to keep an eye on itty bitty bird.”

He pet Biscuit between the ears before rejoining his companions in the rest of the apartment.

Gurley walked into her room and set Biscuit on her messy bed before leaving and shutting the door behind her. She also reclosed the door to the studio.

 

_I'll deal with that mess later. At least he didn't knock any of the paintings over._

 

She then finished her quest to get more chairs, opening the storage closet door and hefting six fold-out chairs from under some stacks of blankets. The fabric almost avalanched atop her as she stumbled backwards and closed the closet with her foot.

Bringing the chairs into the kitchen, she walked past Medic, Spy, and Engineer who were discussing something and saw that Sniper, Demo, and Scout had finished setting the table. Gurley leaded the stack up against extended table and started to unfold them.

Sniper looked quizzically at her. “Why do ya have so many chairs ta begin with?”

She snapped the third chair open and pushed it under the end of the table that stuck into the living room a bit. “My Girl Scout troop used to meet here after I moved in. Didn’t have any kitchen chairs yet.”

Scout grabbed a chair from the remaining three. “You ‘re a Girl Scout? Thought only little kids were.”

“Oh, that was at the end of High School. I stayed in the program until I graduated.” Gurley pushed the final chair into place and flopped down into the chair at the head of the table, her usual spot by the kitchen window.

Seeing that they were done with making lunch, the others joined them at the table. Medic sat to Gurley’s right and Spy to her left. To say it unnerved her would be an understatement. Her anxiety kept telling her that she was trapped, but she took a moment to focus on her breathing and quelled her nerves.

Gurley wasn't for certain if the men sitting around her were religious. Even though she had mixed feelings about religion, she still stuck to the habit of signing the cross before eating.

She thought that most of their table manners would have been like hers when she was serving in the armed forces, quick and without a care for how you ate, but Gurley found them to be very well mannered. Pyro grabbed their plate, gave Gurley a thumbs up, and walked out of the the kitchen and living area so they could eat without being seen.

They mostly ate in silence, except for the occasional sound of a car driving past outside. Gurley relished the taste of her BLT, pleased with how it turned out.

 

_I really need to go to that farmer's market more often, the lettuce and bacon in this is awesome!_

 

Spy took a sip of his water, condensation rolling down the cold glass. “If I may ask Gurley, where did you learn to speak French?”

She stopped mid bite.

 

_Oh, so they were here for longer if he heard me swear when I walked in._

 

Gurley quickly swallowed before speaking. “When I served in the Air Force a lot of my squadron spoke French as their native language. I picked up on some of it.”

Spy hid his small smile of approval. “ _Tu es couramment?_ ”

Gurley shrugged. “ _Assez.”_

She took a drink before continuing. “Also, did I really just obviously walk past y’ all when I got home?”

Medic chuckled. “Ja! It vas very strange.”

“Think it was because I had my earbuds in. I always listen to my music really loud.”

“Earbuds?”

Gurley realized that these men lived in the 60s and 70s, in a whole other universe no less. “Basically tiny headphones that fit into your ears.”

Scout, who was already finished with his BLT, bounced in his seat. “Are there flyin’ cars yet? That would be the coolest thing, oh, and what about space travel?”

“No flying cars, and they cut funding to the space program a couple years back. But, information is much more accessible and it’s possibly to instantly message someone anywhere across the planet, so I’d say that makes up for it.”

Scout looked disappointed at the lack of flying cars and space aliens, but he wondered how you could possible send a letter to someone instantly wherever they were.

 

_Hmm, these guys are going to be staying here for a while._

 

Gurley pushed aside her now empty plate. “I think we‘ll need to make a shopping trip. You guys need clothes and I need to buy another fridge full of food.”

“I can go with ya. I used ta do most of the shoppin’ for the team,” Sniper offered.

Gurley nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll only really be able to take you though. My car is too tiny to fit more than one passenger.”

She stood and gathered everyone’s empty plates, setting them into the sink and filling it up with soapy water so they could soak.

She grabbed her car keys off of the wall hook by the fridge and twirled them around her finger. “Better head out before traffic gets too bad. I ‘d avoid answering the door while I'm out, but if a little grey haired old lady named Edith shows up with cookies you should totally answer it. She lives below me and makes the best desserts. Just say your family visiting if she asks.”

She patted all her pockets, making sure she still had her phone on her person. “Oh, and let me give you my cellphone number. If you need anything while me and Sniper are out just call.”

Gurley turned to the landline phone and home paper file holder that sat on the kitchen counter behind her and pulled out a sticky note. She jot down her number and stuck it below the keypad on the phone.

“Won't that just call itself though?” Scout remarked, pushing in his chair.

“It ‘ll call this phone,” She pulled her iPhone from her back pocket and showed it to him. They stared at the tiny device in shock, wondering how it could even make or receive calls with no buttons.

Gurley walked to the alcove by the front door and slipped on a pair of vans that had been sitting there from days prior. Sniper followed, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. “We'll be back in about… two hours? And don't be afraid of intruding on my stuff or anything, my house is yours.”

She smiled and opened the screen and then the heavy wooden door. As they left Sniper nonchalantly gave the rest of the team a mini mock salute. 

 

 

It was about five minutes after they left and Spy has grown bored of sitting by an open window in the kitchen smoking. He snuffed out his cigarello in a recyclable plastic bowl he found in the cabinet before he reentered the living room and started searching through through the papers in her curio cabinet.

Engineer, who sat reading a book borrowed from Gurley’s bookcase, laughed at his actions. “Hasn't even been 10 minutes yet and yer already snooping.”

Spy pulled out an overstuffed file folder from the drawer. “Zhere is more to this than what she is telling us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is much appreciated!   
> I speak some French, but that's it. So if any of the foreign languages included in this are not correct, please let me know.
> 
> This chapter still needs to be edited, but I thought I kept you all waiting long enough.

**Author's Note:**

> All chapter titles are a reference to songs. I’ll be posting a link to a playlist here shortly.


End file.
